Dying for Love

by Angel Nicholas

  She slapped the pouf into Matt’s hand and presented her back. He gently smoothed the soapy pouf from her shoulder down the back of her leg to her ankle. Then from the other ankle all the way up to the other shoulder. He repeated the action on her front.

  He dropped the pouf and ran his fingers along her nooks and crannies until she was squeaky clean. He rinsed her with the same gentle efficiency, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back flush against his front. Arousal hummed, but she was too rattled to deal with it. His ever-present erection nudged into the small of her back and she tensed.

  “Easy,” he whispered in her ear. “The status of my dick isn’t your responsibility. You’re beautiful, so lush and feminine. I can’t help getting aroused pretty much every time I look at you. Doesn’t mean you have to take care of it.”

  She relaxed, although it was hard, er, difficult, to ignore the thickness pressed against her. “What would you like for breakfast?”

  “I didn’t spend the weekend with you so you could cook for me.” He shut off the water, nudged her out of the shower and handed her a towel. “I know a place that serves amazing French toast. If that’s okay with you?”

  “Sure.” Bending over, she wrapped her hair in the towel. His fingers brushed down her spine and across her bare bottom, then he was gone.

  Emerging some fifteen minutes later, she found him stretched across her bed, perusing the Sunday paper and looking more delectable than any man had a right to.

  She smiled. “I see you’re making yourself right at home. What are you going to do about your shirt?” Torn from the night before, it revealed more than she cared to share with the rest of the world. She was selfish like that.

  “I have a spare in the truck.”

  Her eyebrow rose. “This happens often, does it?”

  “Not until you.” He grinned. “I always keep a spare in case I need to change after visiting a dirty job site.”

  Resisting the urge to stick out her tongue at him, she gave him her back instead and grabbed matching panties and a bra out of her dresser and shimmied into them. Not all that at ease with a man watching her dress, she fought a blush and walked into her closet. She came out fully dressed, down to her shoes.

  “Ready?”

  Matt was staring at the wall.

  “Matt?”

  “Hmm?”

  What the heck? “Breakfast? Are you ready to go?”

  He blinked. “You expect normal brain function when you cover your gorgeous butt with sheer black panties then put a matching bra over the most incredible breasts known to man? I’ve been carefully storing those forty-five seconds to fuel my fantasies. The brief glimpse of your pussy right before the material covered it, the flash of nipple as you slipped your arm into the strap…” He shook his head. “You’ve ruined me.”

  Would the floor just open up and swallow her already? Her face felt hot enough to light a campfire and she was pretty sure she would never voluntarily dress in front of a man again.

  He stood and wrapped his arms around her. Grace buried her burning face in his shoulder.

  “I don’t know why you’re embarrassed, sweetheart. You should flaunt a body as incredible as yours. On second thought, scratch that. Go ahead and be shy. As a matter of fact, you should dress like a librarian. A really old librarian. With mothballs.”

  Laughing, she pushed away. “Alright already. You’ve had your fun. Now feed me before I get grumpy.”

  “Yes, ma’am. When we’re done, we get to come back here, right?”

  “No. When we’re done, you can show me where you live.”

  Matt grinned. “You’re on.”

  Locking the door behind them, she blanched. Talking tarantulas, what the flip was she doing? Next she’d be offering him a key to her condo, which was beyond stupid. He wouldn’t stay. No one ever did. She glanced at Matt from beneath her lashes, heart clenching at the thought of leaving him, of never feeling his hands on her or his warm voice in her ear.

  I am so in over my head.

  They walked down the stairs, her hand tucked firmly within his.

  Oh, what a tangled web we-of-little-brain weave.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Matt let Grace inside and stepped back to watch her take in his home. He’d sensed a shift in her after they left her place that had solidified over breakfast. Much like his breakfast—a load of bricks in his gut.

  Tossing a smile over her shoulder that didn’t reach her eyes, she wandered into his kitchen. “This is a great place.”

  He used to think so, but now he realized it lacked something. Trailing behind her like a love-struck teenager, he pictured her in each room. Sipping coffee at his breakfast table in the kitchen, wrapped in his robe. Curled up at the foot of the couch in the rear family room, reading a book. Stretched out beside him in bed sleeping.

  He needed to get a grip before he dropped down on one knee and proposed. From her body language the past hour and a half, a flat “No” would be his answer. Clearly, he needed to work on romancing her more than bedding her.

  In the family room, Grace settled into a chair and studied the room. A natural river-rock fireplace stretched to the ceiling, while the open wood-beamed architecture opened up the ceiling. Metal work tables emphasized the warmth of his leather furniture on the wide-planked floors. At the moment, he couldn’t care less about his décor, too preoccupied with why she’d chosen a chair instead of the couch.

  Gritting his teeth, he sat in another chair. This was what he hated about relationships. The self doubt. The questions you didn’t dare lay out in the open. God forbid anyone refuse to play the game. Polite, putting your best foot forward. Sincerity and honesty not only weren’t expected, they were unwelcome. Right now, he wasn’t feeling especially polite.

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  Giving him a strange look, she shook her head. “No, thank you. Are you feeling okay?”

  “Fantastic.” He sat back and raised his ankle to rest on his knee.

  “Um, good. I like the fireplace.”

  “It’s wood-burning.” Like she cared if it burned logs or cow chips.

  “Must be nice during the winter.”

  “Yep.”

  They’d perfected inane conversation.

  “I never asked you how dinner went last night with your family. I’m sorry. How’s your mom doing?”

  “Dinner was good.” His mother had deflated a bit when he arrived alone, but she’d recovered. “Mom is okay. Not looking forward to the surgery on Monday.”

  Grace’s head bent, her hair falling forward to cover her face. Frustration sang through his veins. “I’m sorry.”

  Simple and to the point, yet it touched him. Besides, what more could a person say? Empty platitudes wouldn’t help. Nothing would help. Polite, inane conversation wasn’t so bad after all. He thought for a second.

  “Did you play any sports in school?”

  She tucked some curls behind her ear, baring the side of her face. “Track. What about you?”

  “I loved baseball. Teenage rebellion included quitting the team, though. Part of me always wondered if I could have gone big. Pretty pathetic, I guess.”

  Green eyes focused on him and she smiled. A soft, sweet, Mona Lisa smile that left everything to the imagination and tied his gut in knots it’d take years to unravel.

  “I suppose we all have those things in our life. The what-ifs we wonder about as we grow older.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, ‘cause you’re so old. What could you possibly have to regret?”

  Just like that, the soft expression disappeared. Too damn late, he remembered her childhood. Man, he was the king of sticking his foot in his mouth.

  “I didn’t mean… I forgot.” He winced.

  With fluid grace, she rose from the chair and strolled to the window overlooking his backyard. “Nice pool. I’ve heard summers are hot around here, which will be nice after the long winter.”

  And there went any progres
s. “Grace, I know I’ve got a special talent for saying the wrong thing with women, and I’m sorry. What is going on with you today? You’ve been acting weird ever since we left your place this morning.”

  “Weird?” She didn’t turn around.

  “Yes, weird. Your sense of humor has fled and you’re barely talking to me.”

  “Nothing is wrong with my sense of humor.” When she did turn, he flinched. Her beautiful green eyes were cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. “I didn’t realize your ego was so fragile that we had to speak every moment we were together. I apologize.”

  Fuck. What a disaster. He scrubbed a hand over his face then rubbed his neck, trying to ease some of the tension.

  She edged toward the door. “I need to get home. We’re not far. I’ll walk. I need the exercise and time alone.”

  He opened his mouth to argue but snapped it shut. She needed time alone. Wasn’t that code for she wanted away from his sorry ass as fast as humanly possible?

  Giving him a wide birth, she made a beeline for the front door. Every swear word he knew pounded through his brain. He even made up a few for the occasion. They were pretty good. Maybe he should submit them to Websters for consideration.

  Fuck me. He followed her down the hall. “You don’t have to walk, sweetheart. I’m happy to drive you.”

  Grace laughed, but the sound lacked humor. “Please. I exercise every day. This’ll be nothing. I’ll enjoy it. Don’t worry about it.” She opened the door then faced him. “Thank you for breakfast. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Thank you for breakfast? He’d fallen so far that after a weekend of incredible, mind-altering sex, she was thanking him for feeding her. He’d just go stand in front of a train now.

  The door closed. His own freaking front door shut in his face. The urge to smash his fist into it grew until his fingers curled and he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

  Tires squealed. A feminine scream raised all his body hair. Matt yanked the door open.

  An old pickup sat cockeyed in the middle of the street, the engine running and the driver’s side door hanging open. Looking up and down the street, his gut twisted. No sign of Grace. No sign of anybody. Shit.

  “Grace!”

  He jogged down the street and looked up and down both streets at the intersection. Nothing. Turning, he ran back to his house. As he approached, he glanced at the gate into his backyard. It was hanging open.

  As quietly as possible, he edged past the gate. A bird exploded out of the bush beside him and he jerked back. Damn. He crept down the brick path alongside the house and paused at the side of the rear patio.

  A flash of color disappeared around the far side of the house. Grace wasn’t wearing plaid. Smiling grimly, he ran across the yard. There wasn’t a gate on that side. Few people could vault a six-foot cedar privacy fence.

  He cleared the corner in time to see a pair of ratty denim-clad legs and tennis shoes disappear over the top of the fence. Well, damn. He sprinted to the fence. A motor revved and he levered himself onto the fence. The idling truck peeled out.

  Matt dropped back to the ground and doubled back. The people who’d owned the house before him had done a fantastic job landscaping. A wilderness of trees, bushes and boulders spread out, a little waterfall merrily splashing over rocks. Even though the trees hadn’t leafed out yet, the mixture of plants created depth and fullness. There were a lot of hiding places. The guy might have found her. Hurt her.

  No. He couldn’t think like that.

  “Grace?”

  The breeze whispered through the trees. A car honked in the distance. Someone was grilling their Sunday lunch. He walked along the edge of the bushes, peering through the thick branches. The scent of rich soil filled his nose.

  If he weren’t such a thick-skulled dumb ass, this wouldn’t have happened.

  Some sort of evergreen shrub butted up against the fence. He didn’t see how anybody could fit back there, but he checked anyway. There she sat, curled in a tight ball, her face pressed into her knees and her arms wrapped over the top of her head. Her position reminded him of the tornado drills he’d done in elementary school. Especially when she shivered and edged farther into the bush. The thing looked about as soft as a cactus.

  Matt crouched down and rested his forearms on his knees. He wanted his arms around her so bad he ached, but her position screamed, “Don’t touch me.”

  “Grace, sweetheart, it’s Matt.”

  A shudder wracked her slender frame and she drew into a tighter ball. His heart clenched. Damn, she was killing him.

  “Baby, come on out of there. The guy’s gone. He drove off. You’re safe.”

  She didn’t move. Didn’t utter a sound.

  Screw it. Dropping to his knees in the damp mulch, he leaned forward, skimmed his hands down her arms to her elbows and tried to tug her forward.

  A whimper rose from the neighborhood of her knees. “Please,” she whispered. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

  Shit. Just cut his heart out.

  Hell if he knew how to fix this situation.

  He edged around the bush where the landscaping opened a bit and sat down near her hip. The damp ground soaked his butt, but she had to be in a similar predicament. He stroked his thumb back and forth across her delicate wrist. Scratches streaked bright pink across the exposed skin of her forearms. After spending the weekend worshiping her incredible skin, he resented the hell out of anything marring its perfection. He tossed about for something to say. Anything. A distraction.

  “I’m really sorry about what I said inside. Sometimes my mouth runs ahead of my brain. Not that I’m making excuses. I know life hasn’t been a bed of roses for you. Well, I mean, I don’t know, but I can try to imagine what it was like, going from one foster home to another. Never having any real stability in your life. The faces of the people who are supposed to love you and care for you changing constantly. I don’t think I can imagine, honestly. It amazes me, humbles me, really, to see how you grew into this incredible woman.” He shook his head. “Truly unbelievable, beautiful, strong, independent woman. You inspire respect in every single person who spends more than two minutes with you.”

  The muscles in her hand seemed to ease a bit, relaxing. He dared a little more and gently took her hand in his.

  “Sure, I’ve achieved success in my business. I’m proud of what I’ve built. Personally, though, I’m pretty much a disaster. You picked up on that yesterday, so I’m sure it’ll come as no surprise to hear I was engaged before.”

  She shifted a little and her head came up. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. He damn near felt like weeping himself.

  “It was the longest engagement on record. Leslie kept telling me she wanted to graduate from college before we got married. A few months before she graduated, I walked in on her practicing her reverse cowgirl position with some other guy. My father, to be specific.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shifted uncomfortably. Where had that story come from? He shared it with no one, and telling the woman he loved what a stupid moron he’d been in the past wasn’t the brightest idea.

  Grace crawled into his lap. This woman slayed him like nothing else. He didn’t wait for an invitation to wrap his arms around her and hold on tight. Her head nestled beneath his chin, the scent of her shampoo and the evergreen bush mingling. The worry coiled in his gut eased.

  “You always seem so capable.” She fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. “Like you can handle everything and anything. I can’t imagine you in that kind of situation. Did she break your heart?”

  Matt wanted to deny it but hesitated. He took a moment to think, then grinned a little. “Ya know, I don’t think so. It was almost a relief. The betrayal hurt, but what my dad did was worse. A few months later, I found out she’d been screwing my brother too. My parents divorced a few months later.”

  She smoothed her hand down his chest. “I’m sorry. You deserve so much more.”

  Feeling
like a total loser, he shrugged. “I don’t know about that.”

  She sat up, almost taking out his chin in the process. Her beautiful green eyes narrowed. “Listen up, Matthew Duncan. You are a highly intelligent, successful, sweet, wonderful man. Beneath the harsh exterior you present to the world is a heart of gold. You deserve a woman who will love you with all of her heart and soul. Who will think of you as her best friend, confidante, lover, soul mate, and the best thing that ever happened to her.”

  To his mortification, his cheeks got hot. A grown man of thirty-five did not blush. Not even when the woman he loved and adored complimented him in the most incredible way.

  Okay, so he was blushing.

  He ran his fingers along the petal-soft skin of her cheek, gently wove them in her hair, cupped the back of her head and kissed her with all of the love he couldn’t contain. This woman tangled him up. Made him realize Leslie had done him an enormous favor.

  He eased back and met her gaze. “Now, tell me what happened.”

  “Thank you for…” She lowered her gaze, long black lashes sweeping down to hide her eyes. “…for sitting on the wet ground with me. I was so scared. Out of my mind petrified, really.”

  “Anytime, sweetheart.” He watched her carefully, hoping she didn’t retreat again.

  “I had just reached the sidewalk in front of your house when a truck flipped a U-turn, cutting off another car, and screeched to a stop in front of me. It startled me. Scared me. I glanced up and the driver was staring at me. His eyes…God, Matt. No one has ever looked at me like that before. Desire and hatred so hot it burned. So I ran. I knew he was coming after me. I knew I had to hide, because if he found me…” Grace shuddered and met his gaze. “Could we go inside? Could you just hold me for a while?”

  Matt’s heart clenched. “Whatever you want, baby.”

  He stood, scooped her into his arms and strode into the house. The way she nestled against him… If she hadn’t already owned his heart, she would have stolen it in that moment.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN